


The Engine

by areneecz



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Tragedy, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Violence, One Shot, Past, Past Torture, Sad, Sad Ending, Short, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Torture, Tragedy, Work, Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 02:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13917765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areneecz/pseuds/areneecz
Summary: Waylon Park delves deeper into the dark intentions of Mount Massive Asylum.





	The Engine

The building was massive, huge in size, building after building, giant structures for medical use, bustling with staff, employees dedicated to the pristine image Mount Massive followed, the message they went by. Roaming halls filled with the scurry of patients, the warm hum of busy workers. Fields lush, trees stretching and spreading as they hid the massive castle of an asylum, the towering figure.

"Park." A calm voice called, another employee paging the new techie. Fingers fixated on his key board as he fought to tear his eyes away, readjusting his glance on the hovering staff. "They've paged for you three times already." He informed, arms crossing over his chest as he stepped aside to allow access. Intrusive eyes watched the small man stand, a follow as he watched him move.

"Again?" Waylon groaned, walking past the man as he spun on his heels, turning to face the ill-informed staff member. With a tired sigh he eyed the man, the blue hue of fabric, the soft drape of slacked suit pants, the glint to the metal security badge pinned to his shirt front. "Four times in two days, four!" He huffed, an annoyance flooding his thoughts as the other shrugged with fake empathy.

"Get going." The man ordered, a step forward with his fine leather against the linoleum floor. He walked with Waylon, the two seemingly heading in the same direction. Elbow to elbow they nudged through the small hallways, the concrete a blinding white. "You know how important this work is to the Murkoff Corporation." He informed, hands falling to his sides as he searched for his walkie-talkie, the device quickly raised to his lips to mutter an update on Waylon's position, the hiss of static as a reply came through, quickly obeyed as the device was returned to the man's belt buckle, pace quickened as he the two continued.

"Important." Waylon scoffed, a laugh arising as he rolled his eyes. He knew Murkoff, even as new as he was, he heard the drama, knew the stories, understood the gossip between the less important staff members. Something was burrowing, deep beneath the surface of Mount Massive, something was hiding, slowly building up as the uninformed masses above sat uneducated. "Hopefully this "important" work pays off soon." He added with a hint of sarcasm, a hidden eye-roll ghosting his face as he followed the man before him, eyes flashing from floor to wall as he searched out something, anything to divert his attention.

"You took the job." The man barked, an annoyance ghosting his face as the door inched closer, the massive metal barrier between him and the brain of Mount Massive, the inner machinations of the corporation itself. A line of yellow and black tape lining the floor to signal the uninformed, two suited men standing guard as they nodded at the two who approached. "So get to it." He finished, a nudging elbow pushing Waylon's small frame forward, a stumble as he messily bounded forward, left behind as the officer disappeared, leaving the techie to the other two guards. Silently they nodded, allowing access forward as Waylon silently entered.

The awkward hallway silence was replaced with the echoing hum of the engine, the brain. Stepping forward the small techie rushed in, taking his seat at the ongoing console, presence ignored as he went to work. Guilt wracked him, he was a torturer, the immeasurable pain he supplied others ate away at him, the way he treated the ill, the sick of Mount Massive. He followed orders, he did what the corporation asked of him, fixed the machine that broke others. Screams. Muffled as the security of Murkoff rushed in the panicking patients, arms pulled aside, grip tight as they both fought simultaneously. Fear. Fear in the eyes of patients who fought their demise, fought the outcome. Waylon pulled his eyes away, a nauseousness fueling his form as he typed away, a sickness burrowing as he entered the rolling lines of script that powered the program. Suddenly an echo arose, the bark of insults as a memorable patient was brought in. Black hair, slicked back, blue eyes scared, a sadness encompassing them as his massive build was impossible to control. With a surge of strength he was freed, bare feet slick against the floor as he ran for the glass pane that separated the facility.

"You!" He yelled, the unknown man flat against the glass as he slammed his fists, hands balled as he desperately pounded at the barrier. Blue eyes sat closer, deep and pooling as Waylon got lost in them, the emotions they secreted. Standing he stumbled, stepping back as he eyed the massive man, eyes flickering over the screen as he searched for information, orbs rolling over the droning script, a single name obvious through the madness, his name. "I know you can stop this!" The man barked with panic, head lolling from side to side as he noticed the suffocation of approaching guards, the thrash of biceps as he fought the engrossing hands that constricted around him, around the entirety of his form.

"I can't." Waylon panicked, a mumble escaping his mouth as he fought to stand, legs wobbling as his knees felt weak. The scenario playing out before the two was quick, but in the moment it dragged on, felt as if it lasted forever. Lips pursed together, attempting to form a coherent thought. Gentle hands encompassed him, mumbling orders as they ushered Waylon forward, returning him to his chair as they distracted him, pulling his attention away from Gluskin as they diverted him with code. "I'm sorry." He muttered, a sadness in his eyes as he returned to his work, cold fingers initiating betrayal, the torture of an innocent victim. The man was controlled, pulled back as icy eyes looked away, a drop to his posture as he let his weight fall free, pulling him along he was plugged in, features crystal clear on the monitor as intrusive tubes gagged him, limbs bent at awkward angles to fit him inside, cords attached as he lifelessly twitched, eyes rolling back as he sat.

The deed was done, at once he was rushed away, returned to the hallway. Outside the metal doors he stood, lifelessly numb as he hovered, a cold air ghosting his skin as he gathered the strength to slink away, Gluskin in mind.


End file.
